Fair Trade
by Clara Barton
Summary: A shared moment when things have ended.


Warnings: Angst, language, sex, kink

Pairings: 2x3

Fair Trade

Duo stared up at the ceiling, at the cracks in the plaster and shadows cast by the orange glow of the setting sun.

He rolled over and winced as he felt the thin air mattress give, felt the sharp, hard surface of the hardwood floor beneath his hip.

A bed would have to be a priority, he decided.

He glanced around the empty room. A bed and then whatever other stuff he needed.

Whatever stuff people used to build a life.

He sighed and tried to get comfortable, tried to close his eyes and sleep but the effort was futile.

He hadn't slept last night, or the night before, and he had hoped to sleep this afternoon, had hoped to catch a few eyes so that he could go out later and meet Wufei for drinks and not look like the pathetically miserable loser that he was.

Someone knocked on the door and he groaned and he groaned and slid off the mattress and padded over to the door, his bare feet silent on the hardwood.

That had been a strong selling point for him - the hardwood floors and the fireplace. The apartment was small, a one bedroom studio with a kitchen he couldn't even turn around in without hitting his head and a bathroom that looked like it had been carved out of a closet. But it was fine. Duo was used to having little space, preferred it, in fact. It reminded him of space, of life aboard a ship or a colony and he had already spent hours last night, just crouching in the shower stall, back against the cold, hard tile and even though he hadn't been able to sleep it had been comforting. Had felt like home.

Duo looked through the peephole and sighed.

He reached for the door knob and hesitated.

Better to get it over with, he told himself.  
>He opened the door just as Trowa lifted his hand to knock again and Duo felt a small, ridiculous measure of satisfaction for catching Trowa in the awkward pose of trying to knock and balance the large cardboard box on his hip at the same time.<p>

Duo arched an eyebrow.

"Your stuff."

Trowa unceremoniously shoved the box into Duo's arms, hard enough that his breath left him in a painful rush.

Duo glared.

"I'd invite you in, but -"

Trowa walked past him into the apartment. Now that his hands were free he shoved them into the pockets of his overcoat and he walked around the empty room, surveying it.

Duo kicked the door closed with his bare foot and then dropped the box on the floor, to the side.

He winced when he heard something break.

Trowa looked over at his shoulder and actually smiled at the sound.

"I like what you've done with the place."

So Trowa had decided to be an asshole.

That was fine. It was always easier for Duo to handle Trowa when he was an asshole. It was all of the other times that he struggled with.

Duo ignored him and knelt down beside the box. He opened it up and started to pull things out. He had no idea what he had that was fragile, that could have broken and sounded like -

Oh. Right.

He pried the picture frame loose and cut himself on the shattered glass.

Duo stared at the photograph, at himself and Trowa, three years younger and dumber, arms around each other and glaring at the camera, at Wufei who had insisted on taking the photo in the first place, had been the one to drag them out of the bathroom where they had been fucking and make them socialize at Quatre and Relena's wedding.

"You're bleeding."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Duo muttered and sucked on his thumb.

Trowa was standing behind him now, close enough that Duo felt the hem of his long trench brush against his side.

Duo set the picture frame against the wall, facing away, not in the mood to be reminded of the past. He was also a little pissed.

Wufei had given the photograph to them, last year, had wrapped it up and put it in a fancy frame and said it was for _them_. So why the hell did Duo have to take it now? Why couldn't Trowa keep the damn thing?

He distracted himself by picking through the rest of the box and then he saw it, a shower of glass shining on top, the black leather bag.

He pulled it out and waved it at Trowa, finally turning to look at him.

"I don't want this."

Trowa shrugged, hands still in his pockets, eyes and face deceptively vacant.

"It's yours."

"No, it's -"

"You made it. You put it together. It's yours."

"Yeah but it was _for_ you," Duo snarled.

Trowa shrugged again and he turned away, walked over to the bed and stepped on a corner of the mattress, smirking when it depressed into the floor.

Childishly, Duo threw the leather bag at his head.

Even though he wasn't looking, Trowa ducked, avoided the projectile and then turned to look over his shoulder at Duo, one eyebrow mockingly arched.

The bag hit the wall and then landed on the floor with a thunk.

"What the fuck, Trowa?" Duo demanded, rising to his feet. "Why did you bring this shit over?"

"You called me. You told me you wanted your stuff."

"The photo wasn't _mine_ - that kit isn't _mine_. They were - they were ours," Duo bit out.

"So why do I have to be stuck with them?" Trowa asked, his voice mild, the kind of tone he used when most people would be screaming, the kind of tone that meant he was pissed and was likely thinking very violent thoughts in his head.

"I -" Duo realized he had no answer for that aside from _because I don't want them_.

Trowa nodded and turned away. He picked up the bag and set it on the windowsill, his fingers brushing over the leather as he pulled his hand away in a loving caress.

Trowa stared out of the window, silhouetted by the setting sun and Duo sighed.

He walked over and stood beside him, close enough that their shoulders bumped together, but neither of them shifted away.

As the sun dipped below the skyline and darkness fell over them Trowa shifted closer, turned to Duo and reached for his belt.

"No," Duo said and caught his hand.

Trowa looked at him, lips tilted in a confident smirk, and batted Duo's hand away.

Duo sighed. He could stop him. He should stop him.

But he didn't.

He stood still, let Trowa undress him and kneel before him but he clenched his hands into fists so that he didn't reach out to touch him.

Trowa had always given phenomenal head, his technique amazing, his face and attitude somewhere between begging and worshipping, his green eyes huge and luminous, even in the low light, especially in the low light, as he looked up at Duo.

When Duo came he bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out, to keep himself from saying Trowa's name and it was petty and cruel and he saw the hurt in Trowa's eyes, saw the disappointment because Duo had always been unashamedly vocal and he knew Trowa enjoyed that, knew he liked the praise for a job well done.

But Duo just stepped back, tucked himself back into his boxers and pulled up his trousers and refastened his belt.

"Undress," he ordered.

Trowa stared at him, hesitating and clearly trying to figure out why Duo was bothering.

"It's only fair," Duo muttered. "I don't want to owe you anything."

Trowa's lips twisted into a sneer but he stood and undressed, carelessly dropping his clothes on the ground.

He moved to lay back on the bed but Duo stopped him.

"No. Stay standing."

Duo reached for the leather bag and unzipped it.

He heard Trowa's sharp intake of breath and he could practically feel his excitement, his anticipation, as Duo reached inside and pulled out the electrodes.

He looked up to see Trowa lick his lips.

"There's no lubricant," Duo pointed out. "You took it out of the bag."

Trowa stared at him.

Duo rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen, grateful that he had at least made the effort to stock it with a few cooking supplies, and he grabbed the bottle of olive oil.

When he came back Trowa looked a little disappointed, but then, Trowa was fucking weird. He'd always wanted to be marked, to be burned by the electrodes but Duo had never given in to that desire and he'd be damned if he did it now, now that it was all over.

He set the bottle down on the windowsill and pulled on the latex gloves in the kit before attaching the leads to the ring and then testing it, seeing if the power still worked, if anything had been dislodged when he threw the bag.

His ears were met with a low, almost nonexistent hum. Good.

He set the ring aside for the moment and reached for the olive oil. He rubbed it onto Trowa's cock, massaging him until he was hard and his eyes were closed, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

Duo rubbed the oil onto the ring as well and then fit it over Trowa's cock, sliding it on easily and he saw Trowa's abdominal muscles dance, saw his excitement and he tried not to care.

"Open your mouth."

Trowa did as instructed, his eyes still closed, and Duo slid his hand between Trowa's teeth, pressing his tongue down, making sure he didn't hurt himself.

Trowa had broken his skin once, even through the gloves, but neither of them had minded. Duo wouldn't let Trowa mark his skin, but Duo was selfish enough to want the indentions of Trowa's teeth in his flesh.

Without warning, he flipped the power switch and Trowa groaned and shuddered. His hips thrust weakly and his teeth pressed against Duo's hand.

Duo turned the power off and listened to Trowa's panting breaths, watched his chest rise and fall and once it seemed as though Trowa had almost regained control of himself he flicked the power back on.

Trowa shuddered and he reached out to grip Duo's shoulders. His eyes were open now, wide and wild and begging.

Duo cut the power again and Trowa sagged against him, chest heaving, fingers still clenched around Duo's shoulders, fisting the fabric of his shirt.

Duo turned the power on again and Trowa shouted as he came, the sound muffled by Duo's hand.

His eyes closed and Duo turned off the power one last time and eased back, pulled his hand out of Trowa's mouth and disconnected the leads and then pulled the ring from Trowa's cock. He let Trowa continue to hold him, until his breath was even again, and then he stepped away.

Trowa stared at him and Duo couldn't tell, in the darkness, what Trowa wanted from him anymore.


End file.
